


Ask No Questions, Pass No Criticism

by Megg33k



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Fluff, M/M, Stockholm Syndrome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-08-31
Packaged: 2017-11-13 06:00:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megg33k/pseuds/Megg33k
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altered timeline in which Moriarty kidnaps John instead of strapping him with semtex and having the showdown at the pool. None of that (or anything after it) has happened in this fic, including the fall. Jim is mildy OOC, because he is meant to be a version of himself that no one gets to see. John is grossly OOC, because he's a bit Stockholm-y (more than a bit) and a totally different person with Jim. None of this was unintentional.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ask No Questions, Pass No Criticism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [evilmj](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=evilmj).



> This was written for the below request:
> 
> "Jim/John (not actually my OTP, but there really isn’t enough of it around)  
> Possessive!John, Top!John, Vampirism, or other supernatural powers.  
> You can choose from any of those 4 and I’ll be super happy. :) (Maybe add a sprinkling of fluff; porn’s fine too, but not too much. I like more emotion than sex. ^.^)"
> 
> The title comes from this quote: "Animals are such agreeable friends; they ask no questions, pass no criticism." –George Elliot

Jim gently shouldered open the door of his dingy flat, disgusted that ‘off-grid’ had to be so dismal. He kicked it shut behind him and dropped his messenger bag onto the poorly maintained wooden floor. It wasn’t a penthouse, but it kept him inconspicuous… and alive. He tossed his baseball cap onto the sofa and headed toward the bedroom, anxious to change into something less comfortable. A t-shirt and jeans were so… _common_ ; he shuddered.

When he rounded the corner, he stood in the doorway and admired a sleeping John Watson sprawled across his mattress. He watched John’s chest rising and falling, subtle eye movements behind his lids suggesting he was probably dreaming deeply. When Jim approached, he saw John’s wrist handcuffed securely to the bedframe and sighed. He took a seat next to his sleeping… hostage? That hardly seemed fair anymore. The small silver key glistened from across the room, catching Jim’s eye. He retrieved it and unlocked the cuff with a soft click.

John stirred. “What? Huh? No…” His voice was quiet, rough.

“It’s okay, Johnny Boy, it’s me.” Jim inspected the irritated skin left in the wake of the metal restraint and kissed it. “I told you that wasn’t necessary anymore.”

“I just…” John sat up and looked as if he was trying to get his bearings about him. “I want you to know you can trust I won’t leave.”

“So obedient. You even do the things I don’t ask of you. Eager beaver.” He booped John’s nose and stretched out beside him.

John smiled sleepily and draped an arm over Jim’s torso. “Are you p-please with me?”

Jim’s lips were pressed to the crown of John’s head, and he nodded in approval. As John fell back asleep on his shoulder, he let his mind wander. It had been a few months since he’d brought John in. Where he’d once considered strapping the man with explosives and having a dramatic showdown with Sherlock, he’d changed his mind in the last moments and just taken John instead. Watching from afar as Sherlock flailed and failed without his precious blogger was significantly more satisfying. Plus, there was something to be said about keeping such a loyal… pet. Sentiment aside… ah, it didn’t matter… sometimes a bit of sentiment wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Sure, John fought at first… good little soldier… but he eventually broke. Keeping John alive had dampened his will to struggle, but kindness had made him a willing guest. Sherlock never seemed to realize all the man wanted was a bit praise, a shred recognition. Even in the face of rampant insults, he had been willing to risk his life for Sherlock. So, naught but a few weeks of well-placed compliments and a caring hand had been necessary to win his absolute devotion. After all, he clearly had a hard-on for geniuses, and Jim was no exception.

Inching his arm out from under the sleeping doctor’s head, Jim slipped off the bed. He tugged off his t-shirt and shoved the plebian denim down his legs before stepping out. At least the green briefs hugging his arse were all him. He flicked through his wardrobe twice before giving up. It had been an exciting day, and wearing clothes seemed boring in comparison. He crossed back to the mattress and fell onto the middle of it with a huff.

John rolled over toward him, apparently out of instinct. His hand landed just below Jim’s navel, the angry, red ring from the cuff in plain view. He absently played with the trail of soft hair leading toward his groin, all the while still asleep.

Jim stroked the flesh on John’s wrist. He slouched lower onto the bed and ruffled the man’s sandy blonde hair. It made him feel weak, but no one was there to see, and there was something to be said for the warmth of a human body pressed against him from time to time. It was the right sort of boring.

“Johnny Boy? Are you awake?” Jim nudged him.

John blinked his eyes open and wriggled at Jim’s side. “Hm? Yeah… of course.”

“I killed people today, John. Does that upset you?”

“Mm…” John gazed up at him. “Not really. I’ve killed people. Did the ones you killed deserve it?”

Jim shrugged. “Perhaps. Someone thought they deserved it enough to pay me to end them.”

John was still visibly out of sorts. He licked at the corners of his mouth, the prevailing smacking sound indicating he was more than slightly parched. “Did they suffer?”

“Doubtful.” Jim made an effort to leave the bed, but John’s grip on his waist tightened. “I was just going to get you some water. That’s the problem with you cuffing yourself and tossing the key when I leave… You end up neglected if I don’t come home quickly enough.”

“I… I’m sorry. I didn’t think… Are you angry?”

“I’m only worried about you.” Jim smoothed his thumb across one of John’s eyebrows and rested it at his temple. “Can’t have you dehydrating, now can I?”

John shook his head. “I’ll get it.” He slid off the bed and stumbled toward the kitchen.

Jim watched him go, admiring his arse, his gait. He moved beautifully, even when he was barely awake. Sherlock had never truly appreciated what he had, taken notice that his mutt could have been a show dog if only he’d groomed him properly. He smiled when John returned with two glasses. Jim took the tumbler of gin and patted the bed next to him.

In a still drowsy state, John tripped and plopped on the mattress a bit harder than was strictly necessary. His eyes went wide only seconds after Jim felt the splash of alcohol on his chest. He appeared to have stopped breathing.

Jim moved only a fraction of an inch before he saw John flinch. He fought back a chuckle at how easily the man still spooked. He’d never actually physically abused John, mostly because the expectation of violence was far worse than the reality of it ever would have been. “I’ve never hit you before. What makes you think I’ll start today?”

“No… I…” John stammered. “I’ll clean it up. There’s a towel—”

“A towel?” Jim scowled. “Oh, I’m disappointed. That’s just a waste of good liquor. Surely you can think of something more… amiable.”

“Would you like me to use my mouth?” He sounded hopeful.

Jim’s lips twitched into a devilish grin. “Finally a good idea!” He set the drink down and splayed his arms out to his sides to grant John access.

John quickly gulped down half of his water before lapping at the moisture on Jim’s chest. A drop of gin ran from Jim’s left nipple down along his ribcage. John caught it on his tongue, still cool from his drink, before it hit the bed, and he licked a trail back to its origin.

When John stopped moving, Jim’s eyes popped open. He saw John looking up at him expectantly, begging for permission to touch. “Yes, please do.” He wasn’t sure which was more arousing, John’s fervor or his outright obedience. “But first I’d like to taste my drink.” He pulled John into a kiss, their tongues sliding effortlessly against one another. The gin was sharp and still had just a hint of burn, even when consumed secondhand. 

No sooner had the kiss broken, John’s tongue swirled Jim’s nipple, his lips covering his teeth as he nibbled and tugged gently at the pert, pink nub. His eyes begged for praise as he sucked it into his mouth and continued to tease at it. He wouldn’t yet receive the acclaim he sought, though. Jim wouldn’t be won over so easily. He’d have to try harder than that.

When John licked and bit his way down Jim’s ribcage, marking the flesh as he went, Jim finally shivered. He may have owned John, but he loved the inherent possessiveness that churned within his pet. John’s tongue traced his hipbone, and he stroked the man’s hair for the effort. “Good boy.” He drizzled a little more gin down his own abs. “Whoopsie!”

John slipped between Jim’s thighs and greedily lapped it up. He was rewarded with another kiss, only deeper and rougher. Possessing his mouth was one of Jim’s greatest joys. Then, the same mouth lingered just above Jim’s groin. “Do you want me?” It sounded less like an offer and more like a plea for validation.

“After.” Jim tossed a small tube toward the enthusiastic doctor. “If you don’t mind, that is.” The latter half of his response was nothing more than a formality, a mask of feigned courtesy.

John stood and furiously undressed under Jim’s icy gaze. His muscles rippled as he hurried through the process, straining and pulling the fabric away from his form as quickly as possible. He never kept Jim waiting long.

Jim appreciated a healthy sense of urgency. He glanced at John’s recently freed cock and frowned at its still semi-erect state. He handed him the tube with a sigh. “You can perform, can’t you?”

“For you? Always… I just…” He paused, quite obviously blushing despite his looking away. “I just need a wee.”

“For fuck’s sake.” Jim snapped but thought better of his reaction when he saw John wince. He rolled his neck, quelling his annoyance in an effort to keep from further exacerbating the situation. His voice was soft when he spoke again. “Run along then, but do hurry back.”

John scurried off and returned with new vigor. Jim greeted him by crawling forward and licking a wide stripe up the center of his left palm, leaving it slick with saliva. It was enough.

Jim slipped out of his pants, sat back, and watched as John began touching himself. He salivated more seeing the doctor’s prick grow with every long, slow stroke. Filthy little noises floated from John’s lips, through the air, and into his ears, filling him with a lust for not only human touch but also affection. It repulsed him as much as he yearned for it. Once John was properly hard, he reclaimed his spot between Jim’s thighs. He ground his hips against Jim, his cock twitching with anticipation, as he slicked his fingers with lube. One slipped inside with a second close behind.

The first time they were sexual, Jim was apprehensive. He didn’t often allow himself to be in such a compromising position, especially with someone who might harbour ill will toward him. Worse yet, John was a doctor, who would clearly know just how to best take advantage of the situation. The medical training, however, had turned out be quite the opposite. John seemed to know every button to push and meticulously sought to maximize pleasure with minimal effort. Trial and error were a thing of the past when his partner knew his body better inside than out. He sucked in a harsh breath when John’s fingertips splayed in opposite directions inside him.

John cautiously increased the stretch, his free hand allowing him to slick his own cock with lube. Once ready, he extracted his fingers and began to press himself inside. He stilled halfway in, waiting while Jim acclimated himself.

It wasn’t long before Jim grew anxious, clawing at John’s hips to encourage him to thrust. His head hit the pillow when the good doctor complied. There was nothing quite like having his arch enemy’s former sycophant buried in his arse and panting like dog in heat. When his phone buzzed, he smiled.

“Is that important? Do you need to get it?”

“Yes and no. Don’t stop.” Jim’s grin widened. Somewhere across London, Sherlock had just received a third note since John’s disappearance, the last one he’d ever receive. The only thing tying it to Jim was his handwriting, certainly no DNA or fingerprints. More importantly, there was no paper trail leading back to him either. The police would never see it, just as they never saw the first two.

_“Feed them and they will return, love them and they will die for you.” –Alison Stormwolf_

 _ **If you knew what you had and gave it up willingly, you’re worse than ordinary… You’re a fool.** _

*******

_“The difference between friends and pets is that friends we allow into our company, pets we allow into our solitude.” -Robert Brault_

 _ **Solitude isn’t the only place I’ve allowed him, Sherlock. You should see how much he loves it.** _

*******

_“He is your friend, your partner, your defender, your [pet]. You are his life, his love, his leader. He will be yours, faithful and true, to the last beat of his heart. You owe it to him to be worthy of such devotion.” -unknown_

 _ **I beg you to forgive my paraphrasing. I hesitate to call him a dog, as I’ve never met a schnauzer that fucks the way your little boyfriend does. He’ll be cumming inside me any minute now, and I’ll be the only one who hears his cry. Then, as usual, he’ll beg to bring me off with his mouth, and I’ll let him. After all, I have to keep him happy to be worth of such devotion. You want him to be happy, right? The most rewarding thing is knowing that even if he ever finds his way back to you, there’s no part of him you’ll be able to touch that I haven’t tainted, no part of him you’ll be able to taste without tasting me. Ta-ta!** _

“I’d like for you to cum soon, John.” He couldn’t bear the thought of the latest note being a lie.

John looked at him quizzically. “Are you sure? We only just got started.”

“Cum, John!” Jim immediately cringed at his own tone, worried he’d frightened John. A quick glance belayed his fears though, as it seemed only to make him stiffen even more, pound even deeper. John clearly liked being told what to do more than he would ever have willingly let on. “NOW, John!”

John’s muscles tensed. He let out a strained scream as he came, slamming repeatedly into Jim, using Jim’s arse to pump himself through his orgasm. He didn’t stop until his thrusts were empty, dry.

The warmth of John’s semen spread throughout Jim, and he relished the feeling of it. Yet another small victory against Sherlock Holmes. And still, the triumph over Sherlock wasn’t cause for even half the glory of what he felt. He had made his pet happy, which was the greatest joy for which any master could hope.

John glanced anxiously at the erection still jutting out from Jim’s groin. “May I? Please?” He _was_ begging, and Jim loved it.

“Oh, you’ve been such a good boy. I suppose it’s only fair.” He nodded, granting permission.

John eased out of Jim and quickly moved down so his lips hovered just above Jim’s prick. He looked ravenous. When his lips wrapped tightly around the prize before him, Jim rewarded him with a small gasp. Staring up from between Jim’s thighs, John looked pleased with himself.

Jim grinned. What sort of idiot would turn down such skill when presented with the opportunity? At least one, it seemed. He was glad to have not made the same mistake as John’s previous owner. The doctor’s technique was flawless; his zeal and attention to detail were downright enviable. Just knowing how eager John was to please him was a turn-on, and he was soon cumming down the man’s throat. It hadn’t lasted as long as he’d intended, but restraint was nigh impossible when faced with such a skilled mouth on his already aching cock. It was well worth the abrupt ending, seeing John swallowing him down and gasping for air.

John wiped the corners of his mouth and crawled up the bed. His head rested on Jim’s shoulder again, and Jim placed three quick, gentle kisses on his lips. His arm draped lazily over Jim’s chest. “Was I okay?”

Jim coaxed John to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. “Delightful.”

As John began to doze once again, he muttered a barely audible, “Mmm… love you, Jim.”

Jim froze. It wasn’t something he’d heard from John before… not really from anyone. “You too, Johnny Boy.” He closed his eyes, almost as if he was waiting for the moment to come to a crashing halt. He knew their little arrangement wouldn’t last forever. Sherlock wasn’t so dim, and he was determined. One day, John would be stolen away from him, much the way he’d stolen him from Sherlock in the first place. He knew John would struggle with it, too. John had… adapted to their life together. Perhaps he was even a bit… damaged, but that wasn’t so bad. Damage could take the ordinary and make it interesting. He was just the perfect sort of flawed.

Jim was prepared for their inevitable end. He already had the speech he’d give playing over and over in his mind, like a broken record that wouldn’t let him be. He would tell John that it had all been a lie. He’d been using him all along. He never cared for him, and he certainly never loved him. It was all true… Rather, he wished it were. As much as he liked to tell himself he was emotionless, heartless, it was hard to ignore the fluttering in his chest when looked at the doctor sleeping soundly at his side. Perhaps he would never be ‘right’ or love in a ‘normal’ way, but this was the closest to perfect his life had ever been. He may have taken John to hurt Sherlock, but he kept him to quell the pain he experienced when picturing his bed empty once more. He pulled John close and kissed the top of his head, breathing him in, listening to his sleepy murmuring, committing every aspect of the man to his memory. Someday it would end… they would end, but he’d take what he could get until then. As he curled his body around his slumbering doctor, he smiled. That moment was a gift… No wonder it was called the present.


End file.
